


The I Hate Junhoe Club

by ikonfastfiction



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, POV First Person, Romantic Comedy, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikonfastfiction/pseuds/ikonfastfiction
Summary: Koo Junhoe. Part of the Jiu-Jitsu team. Six feet tall and a jerk and a half. Struts around the hallways with his chest out and his broad shoulders like he owns the school. Clowns around a lot. Last year, he famously wore a yellow wig at the penalty shoot-out fundraiser at the school fair.So he scored the most goals and raised the most money for the student council. So what?So everybody knows him and he’s friends with everybody. So what?So he and his band of rowdy friends are rumored to be forming a rock band, and he’s supposed to be the frontman. Yes, they’re a pretty popular bunch of guys. The girls like them a lot.The girls like him the most.So what?Just because everyone likes him doesn't mean I can't hate him.Because I do. I hate him. He's my most hated person.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was entirely inspired by all the hate and shade I throw at Junhoe on stan Twitter.
> 
> Yes, I loathe him so much I decided to commit to yet another multichaptered story.
> 
> To that point, I dedicate this to every iKONIC I've hated Junhoe with on stan Twitter. You guys know who you are. Thank you for all the times we've bounced off of each other's rage over anything Koo Junhoe does!
> 
> ...you guys know when I say "hate" I mean the opposite right? HAHAHA.
> 
> So if you want to "hate" Koo Junhoe with someone, let's be mutuals! I'm @iKONfastfiction on stan twt.
> 
> I also really appreciate any kind of feedback, especially on my writing, so please, feedback away!

The cafeteria is ground zero for Welton Prep drama. It’s where everything happens: from BFF beefs to prom-posals to high-profile breakups. Even the lunch ladies get in on the drama, famously running a protest last year after the headmaster told them they couldn’t serve gluten-free snacks anymore because they were too expensive (we’re a lucky bunch: the lunch ladies actually care about the kind of food they serve us).

Lunch hour is always especially eventful, and today is no different.

 

“You’re playing with your food again.”

“I’m not.” I’m really only repeatedly stabbing at the baby arugula with my fork.                                                                                                                                   

“Seriously, stop.” Miyoung has to grab my wrist to keep me from picking on my food again. I glare at her while resuming piercing through the greens on my salad and pointedly popping them into my mouth. Only when I properly swallow and grab another mouthful does she let down her “please behave” stare.

“Why are you even stressed? You’ve got this,” she says matter-of-factly.  

 

If only I was as confident. Because she’s right - I shouldn’t be nervous. As of yesterday, according to my sources at the administration office, no one else submitted an application. I’m looking at an uncontested campaign to be student body president for next year, my senior year.

Still, it’s hard not to be nervous. Getting offered scholarships from the top schools in the country would depend on me becoming student body president. Apparently, I lacked activities that demonstrated my leadership abilities, at least according to our guidance counsellor.  Tennis is a one-woman sport, and I seem to be the only one with an interest in untranslatable words, making me the sole member of the club I created last year. Being top of our class also meant it was pretty lonely at the top. Was it my fault no one could keep up with me academically?

So she suggested I run for student council to demonstrate that I could work with others. An easy enough task, I suppose – I just need to reach out and win my schoolmates over, then I can tell them what to do.

 

The PA system starts the broadcast with its characteristic awful noise. Mr. Choi, our dorky and lovable principal, begins by clearing his throat.

“Welton Academy, your attention, please. Now, I’m sure you’re all looking forward to finding out who will be running to represent you and your rights next year.” There’s a collective grunt of acknowledgement and indifference from the student body. “Today I will be making that announcement.”

My fork stops mid-jab. Miyoung turns to me with an intense stare. This is it.

“We expected this much from our top student. Running for student council president next year, Ms. Oli Park!” There’s a round of mild, disinterested applause around the cafeteria.

 

Mr. Choi should’ve ended his announcement then, should’ve reminded the school that while I’ll be running uncontested, I will still need at least 50% of the votes to be considered student body president.

“And hot off the press, just this morning, our second and final candidate - ”

Wait, _what_?

“- Mr. Koo Junhoe!”

 

“WHAT THE FU-!” From across the cafeteria, a chorus of obnoxious laughter and mocking cheers drowns out the curse coming out of the big mouth of none other than Koo Junhoe himself. The boys he’s sitting with have stood up to gather around him, holding on to his arms and legs and lifting him up in the air repeatedly while they laugh and cheer.

“What the F is going on?” Miyoung whispers to me, her confident stance from earlier completely gone now.

I try to make sense of the situation. _One deep breath with your eyes closed, easy breezy,_ I recite in my head. Now that I apparently won’t be running uncontested, I try to figure out who I’m going up against.

Koo Junhoe. Part of the Jiu-Jitsu team. Six feet tall and a jerk and a half. Struts around the hallways with his chest out and his broad shoulders like he owns the school. Clowns around a lot. Last year, he famously wore a yellow wig at the penalty shoot-out fundraiser at the school fair.

So he scored the most goals and raised the most money for the student council. So what?

So everybody knows him and he’s friends with everybody. So what?

So he and his band of rowdy friends are rumored to be forming a rock band, and he’s supposed to be the frontman. Yes, they’re a pretty popular bunch of guys. The girls like them a lot.

The girls like him the most.

So what?  

                                                          

I turn my gaze towards the direction of their table. He and his friends have settled down and taken their seats again.

And he’s looking right at me. With a smug grin on his face.

He probably thinks running for student council president is just some popularity contest. He probably has no idea what this election means to me. He probably just cares about feeding his already massive ego.

What a jerk.

 

The baby arugula on my salad bowl falls victim to incessant fork stabbing again. This time Miyoung doesn’t stop the onslaught. She knows I hate it when things don’t go as planned. And this very recent, very sharp turn of events is the very definition of unplanned.  


	2. Chapter 2

“Listen, it’s not that bad.” Miyoung is the kind of friend who’ll be there to see the light for you when you yourself can’t. “No one will take him seriously and no one will vote for him.”

We’re in lit class, waiting for our professor. Today’s topic is literary tropes, in particular, enemies-turned-lovers: Pride & Prejudice. You’ve Got Mail. Boys Over Flowers.

“Miyoung, he’s only the most popular kid in this stupid school.”

“ _Second_ most popular. Only next to Choi Minho.” Miyoung rests her chin on her hand as her eyes gloss over at the mention of the swim team’s superstar, consistent honor student and all-around nice guy. With her actress-worthy looks thanks to her Filipino-Korean roots, I’d have thought we were playing out a scene in a K-drama.

“But you know what? Junhoe is the Anti-Establishment Hottie, and that kinda has its own appeal.”

Miyoung falls quiet again, lost in thought. She only comes out of her reverie when she catches me glaring. “But anyway,” she says as she collects herself, shaking herself awake. “It’s not a big deal. We can easily win this. And then you’ll get your scholarship.”

 

*****

Tennis practice was intense today. Let’s just say I needed an outlet to vent my frustration and our new freshman recruit on the other side of the net was an easy target. There was no way she would’ve hit back those serves I fired unless she were Venus Williams.

“We need to start campaigning,” I scream from the shower to Miyoung who’s in the locker room. She stayed behind to check in on me after practice, and now we practically have the entire school to ourselves.

I turn off the shower, dry myself with a towel and wrap it around myself before I take a quick glance in the mirror. With my hair dripping wet and covering my face, I could probably pass for a run-of-the-mill horror movie ghost, except with me constantly playing tennis under the sun, I’m thankfully spared of a ghostly complexion. I take another towel to wrap my hair with before stepping out to the changing area. 

Miyoung is sitting on the bench in front of my locker, eyes glued to her phone. “Gotcha,” she finally responds, nodding profusely but without sparing me a glance. “Shall we start with posters around school and a social media campaign?”

My skin is still damp but I don’t care, putting on a pair of jeans and a white shirt as quickly as I can. I fish out a comb from my bag and try to untangle my thick hair, but give up after a few strokes. I don’t have time to care about how I look – there’s a lot of work that needs to be done, and I’m not getting through to Miyoung.

“Before we actually start campaigning, we need a strategy. And to make a strategy, we need a competitive check.”

Miyoung finally takes her eyes away from her phone to look at me with a blank expression.

“We need to learn about who I’m up against, Miyoung. What do you know about him?” 

“Koo Junhoe? He’s a pompous ass.”

I furiously dry my hair with the towel while I listen to my best friend rant about my last-minute election rival.

“He dances really well, but he already gave that up. He and his friends have been bragging about starting a new project and people are guessing it’s a band because Bobby’s been bringing drumsticks to class and drumming on desks and like, everything he can get his hands on.”

“Okay, that’s a start. Who else does he associate with?”

Miyoung rolls her eyes, like she’s annoyed with what she’s about to say. “Everyone. He has athlete friends, musician friends, drama club friends. He doesn’t seem to be friends with the STEM kids. That could be your target audience.”

“It’ll be a start, but it’s too small a group to bring me the win. Anyway, what about his…romantic reputation?”

Miyoung rolls her eyes again. “Heartbreaker, obviously.”

“But he’s never been officially with anyone,” I point out.

“That’s because he chooses not to be with anyone.”

“Why?”

“How should I know? It doesn’t stop him from flirting with every girl he sees anyway. Pompous ass.”

“Wait, how do you know all this?” Miyoung and I are never not together at school. Everything I know, she knows. But how is she practically a Wiki page for this Junhoe guy when I know practically nothing about him?  

Miyoung refuses to look at me as she fidgets with the button on her blazer. “We were study partners last year.”

“WHAT? When?” Why don’t I have a memory of this?

“While you were on that exchange program in Paris! Junhoe ended up being my lab partner and, I don’t know, we started hanging out.”

“YOU STARTED HANGING OUT? And you were planning to tell me this when?”

“Never. Our project ended a week before you came back. Which was also around the time that he stopped talking me and started acting like I didn’t exist.”

“WHAT? He did that? That jerk!”

I didn’t miss the tinge of hurt in my best friend’s voice. Now I have more reason to take Koo Junhoe down.

Miyoung dismisses my rage. “It’s okay. I’m over it. It wasn’t a big deal. But yeah, it sucked. I mean, he was a really great guy at first, but then he just up and left.”

“He’s seriously going to pay for that,” I declare with gritted teeth.

“No, Oli, forget it, it’s fine. Focus on your campaign.”

“But this _is_ the campaign, Miyoung! Can’t you see? There’s so much dirt to dig up about him. Dirt we can _leverage_.”

Miyoung’s eyes go wide when she stares at me, like she’s staring at a wild, vicious animal. “You’re not serious. You want to run a smear campaign against him?”

It must be said that Miyoung is one of the nicest, sweetest, kindest people you’ll ever meet, and her look of concern and the way she asked that question would’ve made anyone feel guilty about their own evil ways.

Thankfully I’ve been friends with her long enough to not get affected by her saintly ways anymore.

I shrug in nonchalance. “It’s not like we’re going to lie about him. We’re only going to share the truth. The conveniently forgotten, tucked away, dirty, filthy, annoying truth about one Koo Junhoe.”

“I can help with that,” a tiny voice from behind the row of lockers squeaks, making us jump in fright. A girl tentatively steps out of the shadows and into our view. I don’t know her name but I recognize her cat-eye glasses, red hair and freckles – she’s a junior too.

“Junhoe and I were singing partners freshman year. Our coach said we could win the nationals. But then a solo competition came up. And that’s when he ditched me. I didn’t even get to compete, but he won.”

Our initial shock turns into sympathy - at least for Miyoung. I’m just angry again.

“I’m Missy, by the way. We have Geometry together. I didn’t mean to pry, but I came from a run and needed to take a shower after and I overheard you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Miyoung and I introduce ourselves, but the pleasantries are brief, and very quickly, we’re back to business.

“I hate him,” I declare emphatically. This isn’t just about the campaign anymore.  

“I hate him too,” Missy states, nodding emphatically.

“Welcome to the club,” Miyoung chimes in. Then she realizes what she just said. “Let’s make a club! A secret club!”

“Um, we’re not eight years old.”

She’s too excited to sense the judgement in my tone. “No, seriously! The I Hate Junhoe Club. It’ll be the political operative working on this whole smear campaign. And Missy and I will lead it, so that you can focus on actually campaigning. Of course, we’ll run everything by you and we can work together on getting things up and running. What do you say?”

I mean, it is a good idea. And Miyoung has never suggested anything remotely as conniving and naughty as this. Seeing how excited she is, and Missy with her hopeful eyes looking at me pleadingly, I can’t let their plans come crashing.

“Fine, let’s do it.”  

 

Miyoung and Missy are excited to get started on their scheming immediately, so I leave them to it. My mom expects me home in time for dinner.  

I drag my feet out of the girls’ locker room, lugging around my backpack and my tennis bag on one shoulder. 

I turn the corner to head for the gym’s exit when I bump into what feels like a human brick wall. I step back in surprise and lose my balance, the weight of my bags pulling me backwards towards the floor.

I get ready to hit the floor hard, but a pair of strong arms pulls me back and helps me stand. That’s when I make the mistake of looking up to see who it is.

Speaking of the devil.

He must have practiced longer than I did, still in his Jiu-Jitsu uniform this late, hair a sweaty mess. He towers over me and I have to crane my neck to look up at him, only realizing how tall he actually is.

Come to think of it, I’ve never actually been within close proximity of him like this.

“Oli, right? I’m Junhoe. Your opponent, I guess.” His deep, husky voice is a stark contrast to the easy smile on his face, eyes turning into crescents and a hint of a pair of dimples.

“I hope you weren’t too pissed about the announcement. I mean, I heard you were planning to run uncontested. Then my stupid friends put me in the ballot. It was supposed to be a joke.”

I yank my arms away from his and fix the strap of my tennis bag around my shoulder, gaining back my composure.

“You can still concede, you know. I mean, to save yourself from the trouble of campaigning and all. Since this is just a joke to you and all.” I flash the sweetest smile I can muster.

Junhoe laughs, the sound reverberating through the empty gym. “Well I was going to, but then my college counselor said being student council president might help me get an athletic scholarship in an okay college. Right now my grades won’t cut it so…”

He scratches the side of his head, still with that silly smile on his face. Does he think lackluster grades are supposed to be funny?

“Anyway, I’m sure you don’t have that problem, being the Number 1 Nerd and all.”

My head snaps up so fast to look at him. I muster the most intense glare I can without looking like a lunatic.

“You’re right, I don’t have that problem.”

Junhoe doesn’t seem to catch on to my anger towards him. “So no hard feelings? May the best man win?” He asks, extending his hand for me to shake.

I very overtly cross my arms to refuse his handshake. “Feelings? There are no feelings involved here. I’m just here to campaign and to win. It’s just something I have to do. So if you’ll excuse me - ” I walk past him, deliberately bumping against him to force him to get out of the way. He steps aside, his eyes still on me. I pause mid-step to turn and look at him.

“And yes. May the best _woman_ win.”  

That’s when something in Junhoe’s expression changes. From the easygoing, almost goofy look on his face, there’s suddenly a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Maybe he’s just as competitive as I am. He is an athlete too, after all.

But I don’t care. I turn my back from him and start walking away.

Until I bump into a human brick wall yet again, because Junhoe's suddenly in front of me, blocking my way. He’s close enough that I can see the creases above his furrowed brow and the mole on the side of his neck.

“Listen, I can really care less about this student council thing and our future constituents,” he mutters under his breath.

“Oh “constituents”, cool word. Did you learn that at _dictionary class_?”

My insult elicits a hiss. “See, _this_ is the kind of thing that I care about. I wasn’t planning on taking this seriously, Oli Park, but if you’re going to be like this, I’ll be forced to.”

In a flash he has my back against the wall, leaning over me, his one arm braced against the wall above my head, keeping me in place.

He leans in even closer to whisper in my ear. “Let the games begin, Ms. Number 1 Nerd.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back with a new chapter - and more. I'm happy to announce that I've finished writing all the chapters for The I Hate Junhoe Club!
> 
> I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter! 
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3 
> 
> Thank you so much for being patient and I'm so sorry for the long wait. Hope it was worth it!

**The I Hate Junhoe Club**

_\- Rules & Regulations-_

1\. Do not talk about the I Hate Junhoe Club.  
2\. Do not talk about the I Hate Junhoe Club.  
3\. Never engage the target openly. Absolutely no direct contact allowed.  
4\. Members must practice full transparency: tell each other everything.  
5\. Do not, under any circumstances, fall for Koo Junhoe’s charms.

 

I mark my high school life in academic milestones and athletic achievements: the first big exam of the school year that I had to study the entire weekend for (and eventually get top marks for). The first tennis match of the semester I competed in (bronze medal, not bad). Midterms, tournaments, term papers – they’re the seasons of my school year.

But now, with my intent to run for student body president, my previously straightforward schedule has been cluttered with a slew of social events I’ve never had before: attending the Drama Club’s inaugural afternoon tea at the school gardens, making an appearance at the Brotherhood of Board Games tournament after school, taking a cupcake decorating class by the Baking Club. I might even have to indulge the Mathletes and join their team for an upcoming tournament while they’re short of members on account of a minor chicken pox outbreak.

As if those social commitments aren’t enough, then there’s the campaign challenge. Our headmaster, with his fascination for survival programs, thought it’d be fun to give the candidates a challenge to prove they’re worthy of becoming the future student body president.

The challenge is happening in a month: raise money for next year’s prom during the annual school fair. Apparently our already exorbitant tuition fees still don’t cover customary high school events.

And as if _that_ wasn’t enough, I also have the I Hate Junhoe Club to think about. Thankfully, Miyoung thinks it’s best if I don’t delve into the details of the club’s operations, so she just regularly briefs me on their plans.

 

“Phase 1: The MOCKs,” she said excitedly over milk tea one Saturday. We were waiting to catch a movie at the mall.

“Models of Chastity and Kindness? As in the award?”

“The very one, yes,” Miyoung said emphatically.

“How?”  

Sometimes I can’t believe how out of touch our school administration is with kids these days. Absolutely no one is interested in Welton Prep’s annual Models of Chastity and Kindness Awards. Every year, the school votes on the most chaste and the kindest of the student body, and they are paraded on stage, awarded certificates and mandated to participate in a volunteer project of their choice as a “prize”.

Its whole intent is to encourage chastity and kindness among the students, but it’s officially the worst way to do so, because the embarrassment one gets for being paraded as the school’s resident good kid is mortifying enough that students will do anything and everything to never even be considered for it.

“Think of what it’ll do to Junhoe’s reputation if he wins. His popularity shattered with one award,” Miyoung’s eyes sparkled while she dreamed up her grand plot. 

“But no one will vote for him, Miyoung.”

Miyoung leaned in and prodded me to do the same, our foreheads almost touching. She had a sneaky smirk and a look on her face that spelled “evil plotting”. Whatever happened to my sweet, docile best friend?

“What if I told you I helped set up the voting system last year and that I still might have access to the voting database?”

I almost choked on the boba in my drink. “You can’t be serious. _You’re going to rig the votes_?”

Miyoung leaned back to slouch against her chair, a sudden calm and collected air around her. “Let’s just say we’re going to _heavily_ influence it.”

“Miyoung, no. No way.”

“Oh come on. Think about it! We’re saving one actual good kid the embarrassment of being in this stupid contest by putting Koo Junhoe in his place. And it’s not like he’s going to get bullied for it – he’s too cool for anyone to really, actually bully him. At most he’ll get ridiculed for a couple of months, just enough for you to win the election over him, and then things will go back to normal and he’ll be Mr. Popular again.”

She had a point, but still. “I don’t know. I’m not comfortable with this.”

Miyoung set her milk tea down the table with a definite thud. “Fine. When it’s all over and done with, let’s just pretend you don’t know what happened, okay? Let Missy and I work on this ourselves.”

“Miyoung, seriously, you shouldn’t–"

“Listen, it’s not like we’re just doing this for you. I’m not going to risk my clean academic record just to help you. Even I’m not that selfless. I’ve got a personal stake on this too. So just leave it to us.”

I wondered then if maybe Miyoung might’ve really fallen for Junhoe when they became study partners. She wasn’t the type to hold grudges, because for the most part she wasn’t the type to care enough about someone to hold a grudge, but with the way she was acting, it was like she was a woman scorned who was ready to avenge a broken heart.  

But then it also came to me: if she really did like Junhoe once upon a time, she must’ve seen something in him that was really, really admirable. And not in a shallow, “oh my gosh he’s so hot” kind of way. Miyoung didn’t care much for good looks or a charming personality. When she looked at people she looked right into their soul. And I wondered then what she must’ve seen when she got to know Junhoe better to make her fall for him.  

 

 

 

*****

The day of the announcement has come and the entire school is assembled at the auditorium. Miyoung, Missy and I are all uncharacteristically sitting in the back, uncharacteristically nervous, worried we’ve been caught, half expecting the headmaster to say that the votes have been rigged and instead of announcing the winners, announcing the perpetrators (us).

I crane my neck and look around to find the now familiar head of messy dark hair that towers over everyone else, and very quickly I spot him, on the other end of the back row where we’re sitting, talking animatedly with his dufus friends. Junhoe seems like the kind of guy who’s lived his entire high school life trying his very best to never be nominated or even considered for the Models of Chastity and Kindness Award.

This afternoon, at the student assembly, he’s going to get the surprise of his high school life.

And while I don’t entirely support this covert operation, the thought of being able to take Junhoe down a peg does sounds too exciting and enjoyable to pass up.

I barely register whatever the headmaster says until he starts calling names.

“And this year’s Models of Chastity and Kindness Award recipients, for the boys: Jeremy Blake! Kyle Gomez!”

A mix of scattered applause and muffled guffaws flutter above the auditorium as two bespectacled boys from our grade drag their feet to the stage like they’re about to get publicly tried for a crime instead of given an award.

“And our final winner for the boys, by popular vote: Koo Junhoe!”

There’s a collective gasp in the room, a pregnant pause, then a hesitant, scattered applause. Everyone’s heads turn to the direction of where Junhoe and his friends are sitting.

His friends are beyond themselves in delight, enjoying their friend’s misfortune as usual, not unlike the time he was announced to be running for student council president.

Junhoe is also incredibly shocked, and he has a dumbfounded smile on his face  and a slight blush on his cheeks as he goes on stage to tower over the other two winners. He’s never looked so out of place in his entire life, but for the most part, he takes the surprise award in stride, even when the student body’s silence has progressively evolved into a chorus of laughter and snide comments as everyone makes light of the situation.  

Missy, Miyoung and I exchange giddy glances. Phase 1 has officially worked. Whatever coolness factor Junhoe had before has definitely been eradicated by this award. At least enough for him to be the butt of jokes for the next couple of months.

“And now for the girls division. Andrea Liu! Cherish Foster!” The school seems too shocked and distracted by Junhoe winning that they hardly pay attention to the girls’ winners.

I myself barely register who the winners are, already swimming in glory, trying to figure out when I can take Missy and Miyoung out to dinner to celebrate this progress. Maybe samgyupsal at the new Korean restaurant in town? But maybe we can save that for when I actually _win_ the presidency. Perhaps Italian? We can order in and have pizza at the house for a sleepover--  

“And finally, Oli Park!”

Wait. _What_?

The student body grows quiet, except for some very, very loud snickers from where Junhoe’s friends are sitting.

I quickly turn to Miyoung and Missy, trying my best to stay calm. “You put me in there too? Why would you do that?!”

“We didn’t! Promise!” There’s terror in Missy’s eyes.

“We really didn’t, Oli.” Miyoung looks at me with fearful but honest eyes. “You won this one fair and square.”

I feel my heart beat faster in panic. “You didn’t bother to check who the winners were for the girls?”

“We didn’t want to pry! We only agreed to rig the boys’ votes!” Missy is close to hyperventilating now.

“Oh, so you two are suddenly saints now?”

“Shush, you two!” Miyoung chastises. She looks at me intently before turning her head to the direction of the stage, where the headmaster and the teachers are looking our way expectantly.

There’s no getting out of this one.

_One deep breath with your eyes closed, easy breezy,_ I recite in my head. As I walk up the stage to take my place, I see Junhoe flash an evil, mocking smile.

I don’t know how this happened, but somehow, we’re both in this together now.

 

As if our time on stage at the awarding ceremony isn’t mortifying enough, we then have to walk past the entire student body to the headmaster’s office to discuss the terms and conditions of our awards and our prizes:  a group picture for the yearbook, and the volunteer project of our choice.

The six of us are silent as we walk out of the auditorium. I hear the boys talking behind us.

“No offense, but how did you win? I mean, you don’t exactly look like the kind or chaste type,” Kyle asks.

To my surprise, Junhoe lets out a deep laugh. “You’ll be surprised,” he answers, mischief in his deep voice, and I can tell, even if I don’t see it, that he definitely winked to prove his point. How is he handling this so coolly?

Meanwhile, I walk in silence with my fellow awardees. The other two girls don’t seem at all surprised that I was given the award. It’s making me question what people in my school think about me. I always thought they saw me as someone brilliant. Or someone really competitive. Definitely someone to be respected. Possibly someone to be intimidated by. But definitely not someone to vote for in some ridiculous, embarrassing award.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly feel a strong arm slung around my shoulder. At the same time, I hear a collective gasp among our immediate company.

Guess the Models of Chastity and Kindness aren’t used to seeing this much physical contact between a boy and a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like to read the rest of the chapters now, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3 
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear what you thought of the story. Any feedback will be greatly appreciated. Cheers! :)


	4. Chapter 4

“We keep running into each other like this, Oli Park. I feel like the Universe is trying to tell us something.”

He pulls me close to him as we walk, his arm keeping me in place next to him. His cologne reminds me of freshly laundered sheets, the kind your mom brings to your room on a lovely spring morning. Then you end up lying in bed all day, enjoying the clean, fresh scent and the spring breeze…

Wait. Must not get distracted. Must not get carried away.

“I don’t know what the Universe is telling you, but _I’m_ telling you to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh right, right. Chastity.” Junhoe pretends to fall back as he raises his two hands above his head in mock surrender. That sly grin again. Is he actually enjoying this?

“Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen! Welton Academy is very proud of you, and we hope you continue to bring honor to our fine academic institution with your chastity and kindness.”  

Mr. Choi is that uncle you only see on holidays and sporadic family events who always tries to join in with the young ones of the family in awkward and cringe-worthy ways, but because he’s a nice guy with good intentions, the young ones let it slide and don’t make fun of him for trying so hard (at least not to his face).

“And now to discuss your highly coveted prize: a day of volunteering in the charitable organization of your choice. If the six of you can divide into pairs please, a boy and a girl in each.”

Kyle, Jeremy, Andrea and Cherish pair up easily. Which leaves me with no other choice but to pair up with one Koo Junhoe.

_This can’t be happening._

Mr. Choi gives us a few minutes and brief descriptions of the organizations we can choose from: the local soup kitchen, an orphanage a little ways outside of the city, a group who volunteers to clean up parks and other public places. I spot an org for marine conservation and I actually get excited. It’s the perfect excuse to go to the beach!

“So which one do you want to do?” Junhoe asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at our options.

“I was thinking the marine conservation dive. It’s a free trip to the beach and we get lessons on scuba diving – ”

“I think not.”

“What?”

“Not the marine conservation one.” There’s a firmness in his tone that tells me there’s no changing his mind.

“Just like that. You won’t even consider it?”

“I have considered it. And I think, no.”

“But why? It’ll be fun!” How is he not on board with this? I’d have thought he’d find all the other stuff boring and that this would be an easy decision for us to make, the only thing we’ll ever probably agree on.

“I just don’t want to.”

Guess I was wrong.

Still, I don’t give up that easily. “You can’t just _not_ want something, Junhoe. There has to be a reason.”

“ _You_ don’t like me, and _you_ don’t have a reason.” He hands me the org leaflets and pulls out his phone from the pocket of his blazer, as if to cue the end of our conversation. “Let’s just go to the orphanage.”

“You can’t just decide – wait. When did I say I didn’t like you?”

Junhoe shrugs his shoulders and fixes his blazer. He has his eyes glued to his phone and doesn’t even spare me a glance, the air of confidence he had when he had his arm around my shoulder earlier completely gone.

“You don’t need to say anything. I can tell you don’t like me from the way you deal with me.”

Is this happening? Is he actually being sensitive? The shock of it all leaves me at a loss for words.

“Anyway, if you need a reason, I don’t want to do the beach thing because I don’t know how to swim and I don’t like the water, okay? Can we drop it?”

He looks genuinely put off, scrolling endlessly on his phone, looking at nothing.

I’ll be lying if I say I didn’t feel bad for him just then. And maybe a little guilty too, for pushing his buttons like that. I didn’t mean to, I just…I always need a reason. For anything.

But maybe some reasons are personal. Maybe some reasons are none of my business.

“Fine.” I try to brush off his outburst and start filling up the sign-up sheet. “The orphanage then.”

 

We stayed at the headmaster’s office for another hour or so to get our photos taken and to be interviewed by the school newspaper. I had to give my all to pretend I was deeply honored, that I was thankful for the award and not mortified like I really was.

On the other hand, Junhoe seemed completely nonchalant and relaxed in his interview, genuinely happy to answer questions. He was candid, funny, and, admittedly, a little charming. Of course he might have just been faking it too. If he was, he was doing a way better job at it than I was.

I don’t understand. How is he better than me at this? Why do I feel inferior to him, like I can lose to him? I’m the top student in our grade. I achieve anything I set my mind to. And I hate losing.

Yet in the midst of this sudden, uncommon bout of self-doubt, there’s something else that’s bothering me the most.

_“You don’t like me, and you don’t have a reason.”_

Why did he say that? I mean, I have plenty of reason to hate Koo Junhoe: him deciding to run for student council president at the last minute has added so much stress to my already stressful junior year. Granted, it was his friends who, without him knowing, practically volunteered him to run.

But he didn’t chicken out of the nomination, and managed to spot an opportunity from what was supposed to be a joke by his rascally friends to improve his chances for getting into a good school.

In a lot of ways, he’s running for student council president for the same reasons I am.  

But then there’s the issue of what he did to Missy and Miyoung. And while I don’t know the whole story, having never heard his side of it, I trust the girls. Besides, with the reputation Junhoe has around school, it’s not hard to imagine him being a jerk to innocent and naïve Missy and Miyoung.

In as much as I’m doing this for myself, I’m doing this for my friends.

So why do I feel guilty? Why does it feel like I’m the one being the jerk here?

 

“Junhoe, wait, I-” I’ve already called out his name before I’ve figured out what to say and now he’s looking at me expectantly and I have no words. Smart move, Oli.

_One deep breath with your eyes closed, easy breezy_.

“Listen, I – ” This is harder than I expected. I don’t exactly apologize to anyone on a regular basis.  

Junhoe’s got one strap of his backpack already slung around his shoulder, ready to head out of the headmaster’s office. His whole stance says he can’t wait to get out of that place. And I’m the one keeping him from leaving.

“I don’t not like you.”

His expression is as blank as a piece of paper. “Huh?”

“What you said earlier. It’s not true.”

“What did I say earlier? I said a lot of things. Listen, my ride is waiting and I – “

“I don’t hate you. I’m sorry I made you assume I did. But I don’t.”

That seems to stop him in his tracks. He stares at me and when our eyes meet briefly, I can see the suspicion in his.

But just as easily, he wipes that suspicion off his gaze and his expression is blank again.

“Okay, thanks. Good to know.” He’s back to being stoic again, but is that a hint of a smile? I swear I saw one side of his lip move up. Maybe it was involuntary. An involuntary half-smile. I guess I can live with that.

Having grappled with my guilt, I pack up my stuff and start to head out of the office. The others have already left and we’re the only ones still there.   

“Do you need a ride home? It’s late.” He’s got his hands in his pockets and his face is still expressionless. But he looks at me expectantly. “The buses probably already left.”

And because being awarded and getting called into the headmaster’s office were definitely not in my plans when I was mapping out my schedule that morning, I wasn’t able to account for how I would get home, not thinking I would be at school this late. Before the meeting was over, I was already bracing myself for the long walk home.

But maybe the Universe has other plans.  

“Is it okay? I mean if it is, yeah. I mean, I would need a ride. So, yes please. And thank you.”

The thing is, in my head, I only meant to say “Yes please, thanks.” I don’t know how my stupid mouth managed to mess that up.

But my rambling seems to amuse Junhoe, and I’m sure he smiles this time as we walk along the empty hallways of our school in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I mentioned in my note on the previous chapter, I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter!
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :)


	5. Chapter 5

“Junhoe!”

We look back and see two girls rushing towards us. I recognize them as fellow juniors I have a few classes with.

“Congratulations on the award! You totally deserve it,” one of them says breathlessly. She’s practically shooting hearts out of her eyes.

“So when are you going to go to the orphanage? I’ve honestly always wanted to volunteer there too, just never had anyone to go with…”

First of all, when was this award ever cool? When has anyone been sincerely congratulated for being called a Model of Chastity and Kindness at this school?

Second of all, Junhoe isn’t the only one who won. I was awarded too. But these girls don’t even spare me a glance. I’ve never felt so invisible in my entire life.

Finally, how do they even know he’s volunteering at the orphanage? We literally just decided it a few minutes ago.

“We haven’t set a date yet, but yeah, Oli and I are volunteering at the orphanage soon. We’re first-time winners so we thought it’d make sense to pair up.”

I feel him gently wrap his arm around my waist. The girls’ eyes go wide as their gazes follow Junhoe’s hand as he pulls me closer to him.  

I’ve never felt so visible in my entire life.

“Anyway, our ride’s waiting for us up front. Thanks for the congratulations!” He lets go of my waist to rest the palm of his hand on the small of my back as we walk away, leaving the girls behind.

“What was that about?” I whisper.

“Occupational hazard,” he scowls. “Sorry about that. And thanks for cooperating.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at that. Oh, to be a handsome, popular boy in a prep school, and to have to suffer through random girls swooning over him. Gosh, he must be living a horrible life.

Junhoe doesn’t say anything else as we finally make it out of the building. A shiny black car is waiting at the front, and when the windows roll down, I immediately spot who’s driving: one of Junhoe’s friends, Bobby.

“Koo Junhoe, Welton Prep’s Resident Good Guy! What took you so long, man? Too busy doing good deeds?” he teases.

“Shut up, Hyung.” Junhoe opens the door to the passenger side and ushers me to get in before he himself takes a seat in the back.

Do I really need to sit at the front? I glance to my left and see Bobby flashing a casual smile. I try to smile back, but I’m very conscious of the fact that we’ve never met before, yet here I am sitting in his car.

“This is Oli Park. Oli, this is Bobby. Hyung, can we give her a ride home?”

“Of course I know you, Ms. Park. And I’ll be honored to drive you home.” He reaches out for a quick handshake.

Bobby is the type of boy who really knows how to appear charming and friendly and pretty much perfect in front of girls. Whether he’s actually good for you though, is an entirely different discussion. After putting my address on his GPS, he drives off.

“By the way, no hard feelings alright?” He says casually, one hand on the steering wheel, the other scrolling through his phone, looking for a song to play. “I mean, since I’m campaigning for my man Junhoe here and all. Speaking of which - ” He looks at Junhoe sitting in the back through the rearview mirror. “You left your precious notebook here again. Can you keep that safe please? You can’t lose it. It has all our secrets.” Bobby glances at me and winks.

Under any other circumstances and if it were any other guy, I would’ve probably been annoyed.  But somehow Bobby is smooth and strangely attractive when he’s being playful and a bit of a tease like this.

This boy is dangerous.

“So what are your plans after high school, Oli? Yale, Oxford, KAIST?”

“Yeah, one of those. Whichever one gives me a scholarship.”

“Then you’ll have plenty of schools to choose from. You’re like the top student of your year.”

 I shake my head. “Grades don’t matter much, believe it or not. It’s pretty competitive out there. Everyone has good grades. I need extracurriculars.” 

“You’re varsity right?”

“Yeah. Tennis. It won’t be enough though.”

“Seriously? That still won’t be enough? Wow. That’s intense.” Bobby lets go of his phone to run his fingers through his hair. “Well, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You achievers are always so caught up… _achieving_. You need to loosen up a little sometimes.

“Tell you what: why don’t you catch our band play? We’re gonna have our first gig soon. Junhoe will let you know the details. You could use a night out to have a bit of fun.”

Bobby doesn’t seem to run out of things to talk about, so there’s a lot of small talk in the car until we reach my house. But in all that time, Junhoe stays quiet in the back, not saying a word, not joining in on our conversation. I caught him looking at his notebook a couple of times, but most of the time he just stared out the window with what seemed like a scowl? He looked sulky, almost annoyed, like he couldn’t wait to get out of the car. I couldn’t figure out what his deal was.

I don’t know why I thought he was starting to be friendly and nice earlier. Clearly it was just a weird blip in his brooding personality.   

Even as I step out of the car and say thanks before waving goodbye, Junhoe says nothing, offering just a curt nod in response.

 

 

*****

Once every month Miyoung and I have afternoon tea at the dainty little tea shop along our town’s main street. It’s a tradition we inherited from our moms, who used to drop us off to tennis classes and then hang out at the tea shop until it was time to pick us up.

This time we’ve invited Missy to join us. It’s as good a time as any to get caught up on updates for the I Hate Junhoe Club. 

“So how was the MOCKs meeting after the announcement? Tell us everything,” Missy asks excitedly, sipping her tea. Miyoung is stirring her tea a little too vigorously, the teaspoon hastily clinking against the porcelain of the teacup with every swirl.  

“How shocked was he?”

“Was he upset?”

“Was he super embarrassed?”

 

The truth is Junhoe was not any of those things, but I don’t have the heart to tell them that.

I also don’t have the guts to tell them that he and his friend gave me a ride home that day.

 

I raise the teacup to my lips for a curt sip. “He wasn’t into it. But I mean, neither was I.” I set the teacup back on the table. “It doesn’t matter though. What matters is I don’t think his popularity took a hit after winning that award.”

If anything, it’s somehow managed to make him even more popular. I proceed to tell them about the two girls we met after the meeting who was just swooning over him. Turns out, they weren’t isolated cases. Thanks to the award, Junhoe’s somehow become everyone’s favorite cool nice guy.

“I think it’s safe to say Phase 1 has officially backfired”.

Miyoung downs her tea and sets it down firmly. “We need to hit him harder. A cleaner attack. Is there anything you found out about him at the meeting that we can use?”

 _He thinks I don’t like him and I felt guilty about it, guilty enough that I felt the need to explain myself._ _When he’s not around his crazy friends he doesn’t smile a lot, but one side of his lip would go up sometimes so it looks like he’s smiling and smirking at the same time and it was just…hard to figure out. He’s hard to figure out._

Wait, no. Those are not the bits of information Missy and Miyoung are looking for.

Then I remembered something. “I wanted to volunteer for the marine conservation center but he shot that down because he doesn’t know how to swim and he’s afraid of the water.”

Miyoung and Missy exchange knowing glances. They sport identical, subtle smiles. The smiles of two girls at the cusp of thinking up another plot.

“What are you going to do, throw him off the pool for everyone to see or something?” I throw a small laugh in there for good measure, just to break the seriousness of the moment.

It doesn’t seem to work.  

Miyoung ever so slowly takes the pot and pours some tea into her teacup. “Leave it to us,” she says in an eerily level, almost icy tone, before taking a sip.

“Miyoung, I was kidding.” I’m starting to think this I Hate Junhoe Club thing is getting out of hand.

“Of course you were kidding, Oli.” Missy puts her hand on top of mine. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get this all figured out.”

I throw a worried glance at Miyoung, who looks back at me with a wink and a smile.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I mentioned in my note on the previous chapter, I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter!
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6

It’s the day the whole student body secretly waits for every year: swim team tryouts. Normally the swim team trains ridiculously early in the morning, so it’s near impossible to get a glimpse of them. But for one day every year, they hold try outs after school for the entire student population to see.

And the only person the entire student population really wants to see is Choi Minho of the graduating class: star swimmer, honor student, and only the most popular guy in school.

It’s his last year at Welton Prep, so the audience turnout for swim tryouts is even bigger than usual, the gym buzzing with chatter. The bleachers around the pool are practically full of students on their phones, pretending to do their homework, or blatantly taking photos of Choi Minho, who’s very seriously overseeing the tryouts with the coach.  

I sit next to Miyoung and Missy at the bleachers who, to their credit, remain steadfast in their mission.

I feel Miyoung grab my arm and that’s when I see him: Junhoe casually walks into the gym with another one of his friends, a senior named Jinhwan. They stroll in like they own the damn gym, chatting and laughing freely, seemingly unaware that all eyes have turned to them. To their credit, they did manage to distract everyone from swooning over Minho. Instead, a chorus of whispers and suppressed giggles flutter through the bleachers over the two boys.

 _“Target has entered the building. Phase 2 is a go!”_ Miyoung sends over our group chat.

The plan is simple: find a way to throw Junhoe into the shallow end of the pool so he freaks out in front of the entire school, until he’s fished out of the pool in embarrassment.  

Suddenly I see  a boy, who I know as Missy’s younger brother, rushing in with a trolley of sporting equipment from PE class. He pretends, quite convincingly, to accidentally lose control of the trolley, which comes rushing towards Junhoe and Jinhwan’s. In Jinhwan’s panic, he throws Junhoe aside so the trolley doesn’t hit him before trying to dodge the trolley himself, falling to the floor in the process.

But Junhoe falls into the pool.

_The deep end of the pool._

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd as everyone watches Junhoe kick and flail in the water, trying his best to keep afloat to no avail. Jinhwan is stuck on the floor, in a daze. 

_That’s the deep end of the pool and he can’t swim!_

I start to take off my sneakers, ready to jump into the pool and save him because no one else seems to be doing anything.

But before I can jump off the bleachers, I see him from the other end of the pool: Choi Minho dives in and quickly swims across to where Junhoe is. He calmly grabs him and leads him to the shallow end.

There’s a sigh of relief (and a few excited squeals) as Minho checks on Junhoe, patting him on the back and leading him off the pool. Jinhwan rushes to his side, and somehow a freshman recruit has conjured up towels for them. Minho takes a towel and wraps it around Junhoe’s shoulders. He says something that makes Junhoe smile, who says something that in turn makes Minho smile. Everyone at the gym watches in silence as the two boys continue to chat until they end up laughing, before Minho ruffles Junhoe’s hair playfully and ushers them to the locker rooms.

And thus a bromance is born for all of Welton Prep to swoon over.

A chorus of hushed giggles floats above the bleachers.

Is anything Junhoe does adorable to these people? Can he do no wrong?

 

Admittedly, even my heart is still racing from everything that’s just happened.

Our plain failed yet again. Another attempt to taint Junhoe’s popularity down the drain with no viable results.  

But more importantly, Junhoe could’ve been seriously hurt. Or traumatized.

I feel a knot in my stomach.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told Missy and Miyoung about his fear of the water. I was a horrible person to divulge that information. And to let my friends use it against him was even more horrible. I should’ve stopped them.

  

Next to me, Miyoung is quiet, brow furrowed. Missy sports an identical expression.

“We failed. Again,” Miyoung finally says.

“We suck at this,” Missy chimes in.

The two of them continue to stare with furrowed brows into space, thoughts stewing. I know I should try to comfort them, but I can’t seem to do it.

“He could’ve been seriously hurt, you know.”

Of all the things to say, I show my concern for the enemy? What is wrong with me?

Miyoung and Missy turn to face me with wide, confused eyes.

“What? I mean, he fell in the deep end of the pool. He can’t swim. It really could’ve been dangerous. And we could’ve gotten into some serious trouble.”

The realization finally hits them, and the guilt I’m feeling starts to become evident in their expressions too.

Still, I can’t stand seeing my friends like this. Especially since they’re doing all this plotting mostly for me, and for the benefit of my bid to become student council president.

“Guys, it’s okay. Maybe you two should take a break from the evil plotting. We have plenty of time before the voting. You just need to…reset. Recalibrate.”

Miyoung purses her lips in thought.

“Let _me_ find a way to do something. I mean, I’ve hardly contributed to our club.” I lean in and muster a sly grin. “Let me do the plotting this time.”

 

The truth is, I just want Missy and Miyoung to stop with their scheming. As long as they think I’m the one doing the plotting and making headway into it, they won’t feel compelled to try anything crazy.

And at least I know I can think of something that won’t put Junhoe in harm’s way. I mean, if I can convince him to just back out of the race, then we won’t have to ruin his reputation for everyone to see. I become student council president, he doesn’t get humiliated, and my friends don’t end up doing anything that can get them expelled.

But how do I do it?

 

 

***

I knew coming into my junior year that it would be a tough one, but I didn’t think it’d be _this_ tough. I need to accomplish so much for my subjects. My extracurriculars are starting to get demanding. I’ve had no choice but to let the campaign for student council president take a backseat. 

It’s been a week since all that drama at the swim team tryouts, but I still haven’t figured out what to do to plot against Junhoe. I’ve considered a few options, but they all seemed doomed to fail and I eventually had to scrap all of them.

Then at tennis practice, after hitting a particularly deadly backhand that was impossible for my opponent to return, it hit me: why don’t I just talk to Junhoe? Talk some sense into him? Convince him he’s fighting a losing battle, and encourage him to back out of the race, and perhaps offer a few options for surrender?

I mean, if he’s doing this to improve his chances of getting into a good college, I can just tutor him. It’s actually not too late to improve his grades. He doesn’t need to waste time and energy campaigning to become student council president, especially if there’s a chance that he doesn’t win (because I will) and he ends up with nothing to show for all that effort afterwards. At least if he learns to study the smart way with my help, I’m 99% sure he’ll manage to get good grades.  

I change into clean clothes after practice and stay behind at the gym while everyone else has left. He has Jiu-Jitsu practice today, and he seems to always be the last to leave as well, so it’ll be a good chance to catch him off guard and alone.

I make my way to the hall outside of the boys’ locker. A bit of a stalker move, I know, but how else am I going to “accidentally” run into him?

As I come closer I hear a shower turn on. It’s probably him. And there seems to be no one else nearby. The plan is going well.

Then I hear a loud, husky voice belting out an impressive tune.

Is that Junhoe singing in the shower?

Even if I’d never heard him sing before, there’s no mistaking that voice.

He’s obnoxiously loud, hitting so many high notes, singing to his heart’s content. It should be annoying, but somehow, I can’t help but notice how he actually has a damn good singing voice.

I hate him. Can he really do no wrong?

 

I walk past the entrance to the locker room,  and that’s when I get a glimpse of it: Junhoe’s precious notebook, with all his “secrets” (at least according to Bobby), on top of his duffel bag on a bench by the entrance to the showers.

What kind of secrets could Bobby have been referring to? What if there’s information in there I can use?

Curiosity getting the better of me, I find myself going into the locker room and inching towards the bench.

I mean, if I’m able to find top secret information about him, I can probably use it for a smear campaign, or maybe to blackmail him into backing out of the race.

I stop dead in my tracks before the bench, notebook within reach.

Wait. Was I just plotting _blackmail_?

What kind of person have I become?

In the midst of my very spontaneous and stupidly out-of-place existential crisis, I realize that the shower has been turned off, and I don’t hear Junhoe’s singing anymore.

Instead, I hear footsteps walking towards me from the showers.

_Shoot!_

I try to make a run for it, but as I turn towards the door where I came from, a hand grabs my arm and twists me around, the force of the movement making me dizzy for a split second. A split second enough to have me lose my balance and topple forward.

Except my face doesn’t hit the floor like I expect it to.

“What are you doing?!”

“What am I doing? What are you doing?!”

“You’re the one on top of me right now in the boys’ locker room.”

Somehow I lost my balance and fell towards Junhoe, who then fell on his back to the floor, taking me down with him and putting us in the rather compromising  position we’re in right now.

“I’m not!” I quickly stand up and make sure I’m staring into the distance and nowhere near the view of Junhoe on the floor with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

It feels like it takes forever, but he finally gets up. Any other decent human being would’ve taken his clothes and run back to the showers and away from my sight so he can change, but not Koo Junhoe. Instead, he takes a step forward to tower over me. I feel my cheeks burning under his gaze, unable to look him in the eye.

He’s caught me, and there’s no way to talk myself out of this.

“I don’t know what you’re doing sneaking around the boys’ locker room, but you can really get into trouble for this, you know. It’s very unbecoming of Welton Prep’s star student.”

For the first time in my life, I have no words, nothing to say to rebuke him.

Is this really happening? Am I losing an argument to Koo Junhoe?

“I was, I was…” My eyes involuntarily dart towards his notebook, and he follows my gaze.

“Were you trying to steal my notebook? Think we have our campaign secrets there to win against you?”

“I wasn’t! I –”

Junhoe backs me up against the locker, keeping my line of sight away from his notebook. He’s too close, way too close, his bare chest mere inches away from my face I can smell the hint of lavender in the soap he used.

“Don’t try anything crazy like this again, Oli Park.” I look up and finally meet his eyes. His gaze is intense, but there’s a glint of mischief in there, and he’s doing that thing again where his lips form a half-smirk, half-smile.

Is he actually enjoying this?

He lowers his face closer to mine. “I’m on to you,” he whispers in my ear. He steps back and winks before taking his duffel bag and walking back to the showers, leaving me stunned and alone, trying to keep my frantically beating heart from bursting out of my chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I mentioned in my note on the previous chapter, I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter!
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday night is date night. Main Street twinkles, lit up by the fairy lights dangling from its streetlamps. The shops and restaurants that line the street prepare for their busiest day of the week, catering to couples young and old.

Saturday night is for romantic dinners, watching old movies at the cinema, and strolling along Main Street while holding hands.

Not for me. For me, Saturday Night is the Horror Shift, aka the worst day at Spot, the dog café where I work.   

Too many couples, too many cute dogs, too many cute latte art coffee orders. I only ended up taking this shift because the tips I get for the night are more than I get for all of my tips from the rest of the week combined, and the hourly rate is higher than the standard (our manager actually needed to offer an incentive for someone to be willing to take the Horror Shift).

So Saturday nights like tonight are pretty rare. For the first time in weeks, the café isn’t at full capacity. A group of girls occupies the biggest table in the corner next to the area with all the dogs, and that’s it. A couple dropped by for coffee and cake a while back, but left quickly to catch a movie at the cinema.

With nothing to do, I happily settle behind the counter to catch up on my favorite dramas.

 

*****

I’m halfway through one episode when the door to the café opens. I put on my barista smile and let out my high-pitched greeting before I see who the new guests are.

A girl who looks about my age walks in with someone who appears to be her mother. They flash me a smile before heading straight to playing with the dogs. Behind them, a tall figure in a black baseball cap, white shirt and track pants closes the door.

My stomach does a somersault when I realize who it is: none other than Koo Junhoe.

We lock eyes, and he’s just as shocked as I am, but it’s brief, because the older woman calls him over to the dog pen excitedly. I watch as the three of them gush over and play with the dogs. The three of them look so alike. 

Is he out on a Saturday night with his mom and sister?

If I had to guess what Junhoe would be doing on a Saturday night (not that I spend any time thinking about what he does or anything like that), I would’ve guessed that he’d be out on a date, or goofing off with his friends. But I never would’ve guessed he’d be out with family.

Seems I continue to be wrong about him.

After a while he leads his mom and sister to a table. He even pulls the chair out for his mom while intently listening to his sister, who’s telling him what to order for her. I try to look like I’m busy working on something behind the counter when he starts walking towards me.

My cheeks are burning.

Why are they burning?

I hope I’m not blushing. Oh gosh.

“I didn’t know you work here.” He reaches the counter with an easy smile on his face.

“Three times a week,” I answer, trying to smile back. “What can I get you?”

“Three Iced Americanos please. And if you could make the third one a little less strong? My mom can’t take too much caffeine.” He looks back to where his mom is sitting. When I follow his gaze, I realize she and his sister are looking back at us.

“Not too strong for the third one, got it. Anything to eat?”

“Hmm.” He rests his elbows above the counter, craning his neck to look at the menu posted above the wall behind me. “We’ll have a slice of the chocolate tart and…what would you recommend?”

“The _calamansi_ muffin is not too sweet but really delicious. It’s my favorite.”

His easy smile becomes brighter somehow, just as my cheeks feel hotter than ever. I dart my eyes away from his face and focus on looking at the computer screen.

Must. Stay. Calm.

“It must be good if you like it. We’ll have that too. And a pack of the dog treats please.”

I ring up his orders and take his payment before starting to prepare them.

As I fumble with the coffee machine (because for some reason I suddenly don’t know how to operate it), I notice that he hasn’t left his spot on the counter.

  
“Umm, I’ll just bring the orders to your table.” I finally get the machine to grind the beans, just as I spot the group of girls preparing to leave. “Thanks for coming, see you again!”

The girls wave goodbye at me, but not before stealing glances at Junhoe. He really does turn heads.

“You don’t have to. I can just bring them myself. No big deal.” He grabs a flyer from the counter and starts to look through it. “You don’t mind that I wait here, right?”

“Oh, of course not. I mean, I don’t mind. Do what you want.” He flashes a smile before he fishes out his phone that’s vibrating with unending messages.

I place his orders on a tray once I’m done preparing them. Junhoe is too engrossed in his phone to realize I’ve already stepped out of the counter to head for where his mom and sister are sitting. He easily catches up to me with his long strides.

“Seriously, I can take those,” he insists, trying to wrestle the tray from me.

“It’s fine, Junhoe. This is my job.” Why is he being so difficult?

Then it hits me.

“Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you in from of your mom.” Did he think I was petty enough to do something like that?

“It’s not that, I – ” Junhoe doesn’t get to finish his sentence because we finally reach their table.

I flash a polite smile in greeting and transfer the orders from the tray.

“Do you two know each other?” his sister asks. Up close, she looks even more like Junhoe. With her slender frame and pretty face, she can pass for a model.

“Well, I go to Welton Prep too.”

“Oh, how lovely!” their mom interjects. It’s easy to see where her children get their good looks from. She has an aura of grace around her that’s reminiscent of royalty and a warm, motherly smile.

“This is Oli Park,” Junhoe chimes in. “Oli, this is my mom and my older sister.”

Mrs. Koo extends her hand and  I take it for a handshake.

“Oli’s the smartest student in our year.”

“Is she, now? And so pretty too!”

Not only does the compliment catch me off guard, it also transforms my face into a bright red tomato. I feel the blush on my cheeks spread all over. “Th-thank you. It’s really not like that.” I try to keep my eyes on the ground, avoiding their gaze.  

“Aren’t you two such darlings? You’re working on a Saturday night and you’re spending time with your mom and sister.” She takes a sip of her drink. “You two should date!”

“Mom!”

Beside me Junhoe’s cheeks have gone a violent shade of red as well, while his sister snickers.

“It was just a suggestion! Please excuse my son, Oli, he’s easily embarrassed by his mother. But he’s a wonderful young man, if you get to know him more.”

“Mom, _please_.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t meddle anymore. Shall we play with the puppies?”

“The dog treats! I’m so sorry, I forgot about them, let me get them for you.” Finding an opportunity out of the awkward situation, I turn on my heel and dash off to the counter.

“Sorry about that.” Junhoe’s followed me back to the counter. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

So that’s why he didn’t want me to go to their table.

“It’s fine. Your mom seems nice. And she’s really beautiful.”

“She seems to think the same about you.”

Can he not do that? At this rate, there’s now way my cheeks can get any redder.

I pretend I didn’t hear what he said and grab the dog treats. I start to walk towards their table when Junhoe grabs my hand. “Let me. I don’t want to embarrass you any further.”

His fingers briefly grasp mine as he takes the bag before walking away to be with his family.  I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until I let out a huge sigh.

_One deep breath with your eyes closed, easy breezy._

 

Trying to distract myself, I check my phone and see a message from my boss.

“Sorry Oli, you’re doing double shift tonight. Brian is out with the flu and I’m at a friend’s wedding.”

Another double shift? This literally just happened last week! And I almost missed the bus after I finished closing up. I would’ve had to walk for an hour after midnight to get home if I did.

I’m about to object and just offer to close up early, but then I think about it. It’s not like there’s a lot of guests tonight. I could use the extra pay. Besides, it’s not like I have other plans.

I sigh before replying to him that I’ll do it, he doesn’t need to worry. Then I call the only number on my speed dial.  

“Hey Mom. Listen, I’m gonna have to do double shifts tonight so I’ll only be done by midnight. It’s fine, it’s not a busy night anyway, I can manage. I’ll catch the last bus and get home as soon as I close up. I’ll be fine Mom, don’t worry. Don’t wait up for me, okay? I’ll text you before I leave.”

It’s only after I hang up when I realize Junhoe’s sister is waiting by the counter.

“Oh, hi. Sorry about that. Can I get you anything?”

“It’s no problem at all. Can we get another bag of the dog treats to go please? We have a dog at home who’ll love them. And I’d like to pay for the bill.”

Junhoe and his mom leave their table to walk to the counter too. I feel his mom’s gaze on me and try not to blush. Why does her stare make me feel so self-conscious?  

“So it’s just you working tonight?” Junhoe’s sister asks.

“Yeah, my colleague’s out sick. So I’m going to have to do two straight shifts.”

“Oh dear, that must be exhausting!” his mom gasps. She looks genuinely worried for me and I’m not going to lie, I’m a little touched at her concern.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve done it before. And there aren’t too many customers today so I should be okay.”

Mrs. Koo turns to her son and places a hand on his shoulder. “Junhoe, why don’t you stay and help her out a bit?”

“Oh, it’s really fine, I can manage, I’m sure Junhoe has other plans – ”

“Sure. I can stay.”

I expected Junhoe to echo my words and say no, maybe think of some excuse why he can’t possibly waste the rest of his Saturday night in a near-empty dog café with me. But how does he end up doing the complete opposite?

How am I always so wrong about him?

“You guys gonna be okay to drive home though?” he asks, fishing the key out of his pocket.

“Please, son. I may be old, but I’m not an invalid. I can drive us home.” She extends her hand as Junhoe hands her the car key. “You stay here and keep Oli company.”

Saturday nights are for horror shifts.  But maybe not this week.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I mentioned in my note on the previous chapter, I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter!
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :)


	8. Chapter 8

For the second time this week, I’m left alone with Koo Junhoe.

I’m suddenly reminded of the last time I was alone with him and consequently want a hole to open up in the ground and swallow me whole.

He’s not going to bring it up, right? The fact that I’ve seen him in nothing else but a towel, straight from the shower? The fact that he caught me snooping around the boys’ locker room, about to go through his stuff?

 

“So. You’re the boss, Ms. Park. Tell me what I need to do.”

What he needs to do is to _not_ look adorable playing with that dog. Somehow Wasabi, our resident Shiba Inu, has grown rather fond of Junhoe and won’t leave him alone, trailing after him, wagging his tail excitedly, making a noise when he pets his furry head.

“Uh, Earth to Oli?”

I straighten up from my spot behind the counter. “Oh, right. There’s nothing really. I can handle it. You can just…keep playing with the dogs and stuff.”

He shrugs from across the room and continues patting Wasabi’s head. “If you say so.”

 

A customer comes in to buy some dog treats and a cake slice to go. After he leaves, I check the time on my phone.

Four more hours of this to go.

 

“Aren’t you getting bored of doing nothing over there? Come here and play with the dogs.” All Junhoe’s done in the last hour is play with the dogs and check his phone. Meanwhile, I’ve been trying my hardest to appear busy, rearranging stocks, cleaning behind the counter, checking the money on the cash register. Anything to avoid having to interact with Junhoe, anything to avoid an opportunity for him to bring up the locker room incident.

“I’m fine, thanks. I don’t like dogs.”

At that, he stops petting Wasabi, who has snuggled next to him on the floor, resting his head on Junhoe’s leg.

“What? How can you _hate_ dogs?”

“I don’t know, they’re needy. It’s like they can’t survive if they don’t get attention.”  

“That’s why they’re adorable! But fine, so you don’t like dogs. Why are you working here then?”

I shrug. “The pay is good, the tips are good, it’s near the bus stop, and the dogs don’t bother me as much as the customers do.”

He still looks affronted but decides to let it go, hugging Wasabi a little closer to him and letting another dog rest his head on his other leg.

I can’t believe I still have three more hours of this.

 

It’s when there’s only two hours left on my Horror Shift when things start going crazy.

First, the group of girls from earlier are back, now with even more of their friends. And with the way they giggle and whisper to each other after seeing Junhoe playing with the dogs, I can tell they didn’t come back for the lattes. They settle at the table near the dog pen just as the door opens again.

This time, two couples arrive. And two more groups of friends.

The movie playing at the cinema must have already finished a screening.

Junhoe watches the sudden influx of people into the café. He gets up to walk towards me. The look on his face tells me he can tell from my expression that I’m trying not to panic, but deep inside, I’m already freaking out.

“Okay, boss. What do you need me to do?” he says under his breath, his gaze serious.

I hand him an apron, a notepad, a pencil and a menu. “Can you take those girls’ orders? Please take your time. As much time as you need. Use your charms if needed. Let me deal with the couples first.”

Junhoe nods and walks back to the table where the girls are sitting. As he approaches them, the girls try to hold back their excitement, trying to control their faces to keep from smiling so brightly.

I don’t have time to watch Junhoe turn on his charms for the girls because the couples have lined up to order at the counter. I quickly prepare their drinks and pastries. A few more guests have come in and soon we are almost at full capacity.

Then a group of loud, rowdy boys comes in to the café. They proceed to the counter quickly, chatting loudly amongst themselves, not seeming to care that there are other people around them.

One of them sees me and elbows the other. He walks ahead of his friends and gets to the counter first.

“How you doin’?” he asks, shamelessly scanning me with his eyes from head to toe. Revolting.

“What can I get you today?” I try to remain calm and unbothered. If I show him I’m affected by his rudeness, he’ll act out even more.

“Well I was only gonna get some coffee but seems you have a lot more to offer.” He licks his lips and winks.

I restrain myself from punching him in the face.

“Gentlemen, shall I show you your table so I can take your orders?”

From out of nowhere Junhoe’s somehow wedged himself between the group of boys and the counter, his back to me, keeping me out of view. His voice is casual and easy-going, but his stance and the way he towers over all of them are meant to intimidate. And it works.

The boys step back and turn around as Junhoe leads them to the last remaining table. He proceeds to taking their orders. As he waits for them to look over the menu, he looks my way and we lock eyes. I mouth a “thank you” to him and it somehow drops the serious expression on his face, flashing me a quiet smile.

 

By the end of the hour, nearly all of the customers have already left.

We survived, except it’s now time to clean up, and we only have an hour.

I take care of the cash register first while Junhoe cleans up the tables, getting all the used glasses and dishes together to take to the sink. I try to stop him from washing the dishes, but he insists, and honestly I don’t have the strength to argue with him, seeing as he’s offering to tick off one of my least favorite tasks.

I clean the coffee machine and make sure everything is in order behind the counter. We’re nearly done. From experience, it’ll only take me 3 minutes to lock up the café and walk to the bus stop across the street.

At 11:57, it’s time to go.

We make sure all the dogs are in the pen and ready to rest. Junhoe gives Wasabi one last belly rub before I turn the lights off and lock up.

Except in the depths of my backpack, I can’t seem to find the keys.

I fumble through the contents of my bag for a good minute, but I still can’t seem to find the keys.

I shake my bag and hear the familiar sound of the keys jangling. It’s in there somewhere. Another minute passes.

Losing hope, I dump all the contents of my backpack on the floor to look for the keys. Junhoe has knelt beside me and we pore through my stuff together.

“Here!” he screams in triumph as he fishes out the keys.

“Quick!” I stuff all my belongings back in my bag, dash for the door and close up the cafe.

By the time we’re out on the street, we see the last bus of the night leaving the bus stop.

“Wait!” I try to run after it, jumping up and down in the middle of the street, waving my hands frantically, hoping the driver will see. But the bus has gone too far and it’s already too late.

I stop jumping and just stand there as a I gather my breath, in the middle of the empty street. I’m going to need all the strength I have left for the hour-long walk to my house. At midnight. In random dark streets I’m not familiar with. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home. This way right?” Junhoe is tugging at my backpack until the straps fall off my shoulders. In one swift motion he’s taken the bag and slung it over his own shoulders.

“It’s fine, I can walk on my own.”

“This late?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. Besides, I promised my mom I’ll keep you company today.”

He walks past me and I have no choice but to follow him.

 

 

*****  
“Thanks. For tonight. And for walking with me. And I’m sorry to have you go through all this.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun. That was a crazy crowd though at the end, huh? Felt like the zombie apocalypse.”

That actually makes me laugh. “Yeah, I haven’t had to deal with that many customers at the same time in a while. Thanks for staying. And sorry I had to make you work so much.”

It’s Junhoe’s turn to chuckle. “Is that all you’re ever going to say? Thank you and sorry?” When he looks at me there’s a cheerfulness in his smile that I don’t think I’ve seen before. A lightness to his gaze somehow.

For once, I’m not nervous to look at him and smile back.

 

“Your mom and sister are really nice.” We’re halfway to my house and have taken to a comfortable pace, walking side by side.   

“Thanks. They’re my best friends.”

“Not Bobby?”

“Bobby Hyung’s great, but you know, it’s different.” He keeps his hands in his pockets as he kicks a stray pebble out of the way.

“What about you? You’re always with those two girls. Are they your best friends?”

“Missy and Miyoung? Well Miyoung is. Missy’s a bit of a new friend.”

“She sings really well.”

“She does?” I feign ignorance at that piece of information.

“We used to sing together.”

“Used to?”

“We tried to compete and stuff. Her academics were suffering though with all the training and the stress. She didn’t want to leave, but I felt bad that she was struggling, so I just left. If I wasn’t there we couldn’t compete, and she can focus on studying.”

“Oh.”                                            

“Miyoung, on the other hand…actually, hang on. Where were you last year?”

“Huh?”

“Miyoung and I were lab partners. But now I’m thinking, why weren’t you two lab partners?”

“Oh, I was on an exchange program in Paris.”

“That explains it. Otherwise she would’ve never paired up with a jerk like me. Miyoung was really nice though. Super patient.”

“You’re not a jerk. But I didn’t know you and Miyoung are friends? I mean, she never mentioned anything…”

“I don’t think she sees me as a friend. Maybe an annoying lab partner who barely contributed anything, yes, but far from a friend.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Seriously, I felt like such a burden to her. She did so much of the work. We got a really good grade.”

“Did you ever hang out with her outside of the project?”

“Nah. I don’t think she’d have wanted to hang out with me. Besides, you were probably already back when our project ended, so she probably didn’t want anything to do with me anymore by then.”

“She didn’t want anything to do with you?”

“Yeah. I mean, why would she? I was really a burden to her. And with you back she could hang out with smart, responsible people like her again.”

I don’t know what gets into me, but I stop in my tracks and grab his wrist to keep him from walking. I look up at him and stare straight into his eyes.

“Junhoe, I don’t think you’re a burden to anyone. You don’t give yourself enough credit. And you shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

He bites his lip, flustered, avoiding my gaze. But he can’t help the small smile on his face.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t do that. Sorry. And thank you.”

There’s mischief in my smile and in what I’ll say next. “Is that all you’re ever going to say? Thank you and sorry?”

I let go of his wrist and start walking again our laughs reverberating through the empty street.

 

In no time at all, we’re standing in front of my house.

“This is me.” We stand facing each other by the front door. “Again, I’m sorry you had to spend your Saturday night washing dishes. And thank you, really. Couldn’t have survived that night without you. But I’m sorry it was no fun.”

Suddenly Junhoe places a palm against my cheek, tilting my head upwards so I have no choice but look at him as he looks intently back at me.

“Oli, you don’t give yourself enough credit for actually being fun to be around. You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.” He grins, playful, pleased with the way he used my own words of encouragement on me.

But there’s something else in his gaze: a nanosecond of contemplation. Of consideration. Of weighing his options, thinking about the consequences, of being tempted by the possibilities. I see it flash through his eyes. I see it in the way his brow furrows briefly, in the subtle way he bites the inside of his cheek.

For me, the nanosecond stretches, seemingly endless, planting just one thought in my head: the possibility of a kiss.

My first kiss.  

The moment feels unending, yet in an instant, Junhoe is suddenly already pulling his hand back, away from my face and into the pocket of his sweatpants.

And just like that, all notions of a first kiss vanish.

“We should do this again some time. I mean, if you’re up for it…” he says. It feels more like a consolation than an honest invitation, but I try to flash a smile at him anyway.

“Of course.”

“Alright.” Junhoe smiles back. “I should get going.”

“Where do you live?”

“Cedar Street.”

My eyes go wide. That’s all the way on the other side of town! At least an hour and a half walk from here. I feel horrible for him.

“Junhoe, you should’ve said something! That’s so far way. I should’ve just walked home by myself.”

“Oli, it’s okay.”

“If I hadn’t lost the keys in my bag we would’ve made the bus—"

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t have traded tonight for anything else.”

I look at him, the guilt I’m feeling showing up in my furrowed brow and nervous lip biting. Guess there’s nothing I can do to remedy the situation. “Thanks again. And…”

“You’re sorry. I know. I got it.”

He takes off my backpack and loops the straps through my arms.

“Let-let me know when you get home?”

Should I have asked that? Did I have the right to ask that of him? Is he going to think I’m encroaching on his privacy or something?

But Junhoe only nods with a smile and a wink. “I will.”

As he walks away, I realize he doesn’t even have my number.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I mentioned in my note on the previous chapter, I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter!
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :)


	9. Chapter 9

I don’t know where my week went.

First we had that Chemistry exam. Then we had that paper due on literary tropes. Then the drills at tennis practice nearly killed me because I hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Then the weekend came and the Horror Shift was exactly that – a horrifying amount of customers and orders.

So Sunday couldn’t have come any sooner.

It’s really the only day when I don’t have plans. Usually my mom makes them for me. She’d take me out to brunch or she’ll cook me something nice at home. Sometimes she’ll drag me to the mall or we’ll hang out at a café and catch up on how our week went.

This morning she made me a lovely breakfast because she knew I had a rough week. We were up bright and early because even today, on a Sunday, I unfortunately have plans.

“Can’t I just make up an excuse so I don’t have to go?” It’s only 9AM but we’re already out of the house and Mom is driving me to my appointment today. Because today is the day I need to volunteer at the orphanage.

“Oli, you were given an award, and now you have to face the consequences.” She tries to hide her smile, but I know she’s enjoying this. My mom was the cool kid in high school who still managed to get excellent grades and get into a good university but was far from being the good kid. She partied, had fun and did her own share of crazy things but still managed to graduate with honors. She always tells me I need to loosen up more but I don’t think I’m like her in that way. She says I take after my dad, who was incredibly responsible.

“But kids don’t like me.”

“To be fair, that was just one kid, and your Aunt Mindy’s little boy doesn’t like anyone anyway.” The GPS tells her to take a right on the next corner. “So who else chose to volunteer at the orphanage?”

“This other boy.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. He’s part of the jiu jitsu team. And also a first time MOCK awardee.” I conveniently forget to include the fact that we had a lot to do with him winning.

“Is he that uninteresting to you?”

“He’s okay, I just, don’t know. I don’t know him that well.”

The orphanage comes into view as my mom slows and stops at the curb right in front of the entrance.

“Is he the one you’re volunteering with?”

I look to the direction where my mom is pointing and feel my stomach do a somersault again. Why does that happen every time I see Koo Junhoe?

I try to act nonplussed, uninvolved. “Uh, yeah. I think that’s him.”

“You’re not interested in _that_?”

“Mom.”

Before I can stop her, she’s getting out of the car and walking her way towards him.

Junhoe is wearing faded jeans with a light blue button down and white sneakers. Incidentally, I too have a pair of jeans on which I’ve paired with a baby blue button down and white sneakers.

Junhoe sees us approaching and he straightens up a bit.

“Hi! I’m Oli’s mom. Are you volunteering with her? Congratulations on the MOCK.”

“Uh, yes. I’m Junhoe. Koo Junhoe. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Park.”

“Oh please, call me Annie.”

I stand behind my mom a good distance away from the two of them. Now I know how Junhoe felt when he had to introduce me to his mom.

“Would you look at that, you guys match!”

“Mom!”

“I mean your outfits match, munchkin. Look!” She makes me stand next to him. I just want to disappear. 

“Do you mind if I take a picture of you two, Junhoe? Oli never introduces me to any of her classmates.”

“Mom.”

“Sure, Mrs. Park.” To my surprise, he puts his arm around me and pulls me closer to him.

He’s brave, I’ll give him that.

Mom tries to hide her satisfied smile as she pretends to fumble with the camera on her phone. After she takes the photo, she ends my misery by sending us off.

“You two have fun, okay? It was nice to meet you, Junhoe.”

“You too, Mrs. Park.”

“Pick you up later, munchkin?”

I come up to her and give her a hug before she gets back in the car.

 

Junhoe and I finally start to walk towards the entrance of the orphanage.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Your mom’s really nice. And pretty cool.”

“Thanks, she is.”

My mom’s the epitome of a modern independent woman. She works in corporate but also owns an online business. When my dad died she suddenly had to provide for both of us with just her income, so she decided to start a business selling homeware and kitchenware made by local artisans.

“You’re a lot like her.”

I shake my head. “Not even halfway there. But she’s a great role model.”

“I’m sure she is, munchkin.”

“What?”

“Munchkin. That’s what she calls you, right? Is she the only one allowed to call you that? Cause it’s honestly super appropriate…”

“Shut up,” I interject with a playful jab on his shoulder. He pretends to wince in pain before he laughs. “And yes, as the woman who gave me life, she’s the only one allowed to call me that.”

 

 

*****

It takes me a full hour, but I manage to figure out how I can get the kids at the orphanage to like me: hot chocolate.

We have a simple task today, and that’s to keep the kids entertained. So at the playroom I set up a “café” and have them line up to “order” chocolate milk. I take their orders like I would at Spot, writing down their names and orders in little cups and handing them their drink after. The kids love it. And it’s so cute when they gather in the small tables I’ve set up around the café and talk like grown ups after I’ve handed them their drinks.

Junhoe, on the other hand, isn’t having as much progress to connect with the kids. He mainly stays fumbling on the sidelines, too tall among the kids running around not paying attention to him. He tries to hand them toys to try and play with them, but mostly he gets ignored.

That’s until a little girl with thick rimmed glasses and a high ponytail comes up to him. She reaches up to tug on Junhoe’s sleeve and get his attention.

“Will you have coffee with me and Evita?”

“Evita?”

“Evita, my friend.” The girl raises the doll in her arms.

Maybe he’s amused by the doll’s unique name, or just amused at the little girl, because his eyes turn into crescents as he flashes a big smile. “Oh. It would be my pleasure. I’m Junhoe. What’s your name?”

The little girl, whose name is Ellie, takes Junhoe’s hand and leads him to my pretend café.

“Welcome, what can I get you?” I greet her cheerfully.

“I would like a crapuccino please.”

Did I hear that correctly? “A what?”

“A crapuccino, please. You know, that drink?” Ellie says matter-of-factly.

Junhoe and I lock eyes as we try not to laugh. Do we even try to correct her about the slightly inappropriate name? She clearly just made it up and has no idea what it means. She’s standing there trying so very hard to be what she thinks is what a grown up’s like: arms crossed, looking straight at me, impatient and demanding of what she needs.

“Umm, sure. One crapuccino for the lady. May I have your name to put on the cup?”

“Ellie.”

“That’s one crapuccino for Ellie. Got it. And for the gentleman?” I turn to Junhoe.

“I’d like the same, please.” His eyes turn into crescents as his lips open up to a bright, boxy smile.  

Somehow, as Junhoe and Ellie take a seat around one of the tables with their drinks, the other kids all somehow gravitate toward them. Everyone starts ordering their own “crapuccino”, much to my  amusement, before they head on to sit around and play with Ellie and Junhoe. And just like that, Junhoe is king of the kids, playing with them, high-fiving them, teasing them. I guess children aren’t immune to his charms either.

The day finally ends and we say goodbye to the kids, promising to come back and visit them again. We hear their voices shouting our names and screaming their goodbyes as we walk out of the orphanage.

“Well that was surprisingly fun,” Junhoe quips. He’s had a smile on his face the whole day.

“Yeah. It really was.”

“So how are you getting home?”

“My mom’s picking me up. You?”

“Oh. Well I was gonna hang around for a bit, check out the shops, maybe catch a movie.”

“Oh, okay.”

Just then I feel my phone vibrate. When I check it’s my mom who sent the message. I let out a loud sigh.

 “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Something came up and my mom got busy so I’m gonna have to take the bus home.”

Junhoe’s eyes briefly light up. “Oh, that sucks.” He fidgets, fixing how his button down drapes over his shoulder with a little shrug. “Do you maybe want to hang out first before you go? Get a coffee or something? I mean, an actual coffee. Not like a crapuccino or anything.” He smiles shyly.

The first word that comes to my mind is “yes”. And I almost say it, the word at the tip of my tongue just as I’m about to speak, but then I hear a little voice in my head:

_Rule #5: Do not, under any circumstances, fall for his charms. Not even for a little bit._

“I can’t. Mom needs me back home like, right now. Sorry.”

I try not to notice the disappointment that’s suddenly on Junhoe’s face.

“Oh, okay. I’ll walk you to the bus stop then.”

“No! I mean, no need, it’s fine, I can manage. You go explore, hang out with…yourself. I mean, go do whatever you were supposed to do. I’ll just see you at school.”

I back away as quickly as I can and manage a small, barely visible wave before I’m practically sprinting to the bus stop, cheeks burning, pulse racing.

Did Junhoe just ask me to hang out with him? Not from his mother or sister’s prodding, not because we have to for a stupid contest we both didn’t want to win. But he asked, of his own volition, because he probably wanted to hang out with me. He wanted to hang out with _me_.

Why in the world did I say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I mentioned in my note on the previous chapter, I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter!
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :)


	10. Chapter 10

“We’ve been thinking, and we’ve decided it would be in everyone’s best interest to temporarily suspend, for the unforeseeable future, the activities of the I Hate Junhoe Club.”

It’s study period and we’re at the library. Miyoung’s statement comes out of nowhere, and it makes me wonder what I missed over the weekend.

“Did something happen?”

“It’s more of what _didn’t_ happen, thankfully,” Missy says matter-of-factly.

“We could’ve really hurt him with that pool prank,” Miyoung interjects. “So we think it would be in the best interest of your campaign to just focus on that – your campaign.”

“The campaign challenge is already on Friday, so we need to stay focused.”

I look from Missy to Miyoung, who seem to have carefully orchestrated this speech. “I couldn’t agree more.” I try not to look like I’m actually really relieved.

“So, the challenge.”

We’re supposed to raise money for our senior prom next year at the school fair happening on Friday. We can organize events, booths, sell stuff – pretty much anything we can think of. The more attractive to the fairgoers, the better. This on top of school work and tennis practice. It’s going to be another rough week.

 

*****

Miyoung, Missy and I are at the fair grounds early on Friday to set up. We’re given a space for our booth and we can decorate it however way we want. We decided on getting inspiration from our favorite tea shop for an English countryside feel, placing vases filled with wild flowers, tea sets, and other dainty details on the long table given to us. We’ll offer tea and biscuits for free to anyone who avails of anything. 

Miyoung offered to bake cookies for us to sell, and Mom donated some of her bestselling items at the shop so we can sell them at a discounted price. Then Missy and I are offering voice lessons, tennis lessons, and tutoring sessions.

It doesn’t take us long to get everything in order, and once we do, we announce our offers online. The three of us don’t have a huge number of followers, but we figured a few posts on social media might help.  

Not long after finishing our setup, Junhoe and his friends arrive, ready to set up their booth next to ours. They don’t have anything fancy – a couple of simple tables and chairs and a few posters and banners which they easily put up in the space assigned to them. But the few banners they have and their identical shirts have one thing we don’t: the address to a website, www.VoteForJunhoe.com.

“We should’ve created a page or a website or something,” Miyoung says, realizing the gravity of the oversight.

I check the site on my phone and try not to show my panic. “It’s okay. Let’s just stick to our plan.”

 

By noon, the fair officially opens. A lot of the students and other guests look at our booths, but more of them walk past us to visit Junhoe’s booth.

Junhoe’s team of friends and volunteers would talk to everyone who stops by. They’ll take out their phones, presumably to check the website, and after a while end on a handshake, and a “thank you”. It isn’t hard to tell that they’re bringing in a lot more sales than us.   

They’re pretty much offering the same things we are: they have a bake sale, except theirs are made-to-order macarons and cupcakes by Junhoe’s sister. Then he and his friends also offer lessons: Jiu Jitsu from Junhoe, drum lessons from Bobby, and swimming lesson from Minho, who has somehow become part of their group.

Then there’s the thing they have that we don’t: an auction for a date with Junhoe, as well as dates with each of his equally gorgeous friends.

The bidding starts at 50 dollars. We don’t have a single item that we sell for higher than 10.

We smell defeat.

 

The day is almost over and while we’ve sold more than we thought we would, we’re almost sure Junhoe’s team has sold way more than we have.

Speaking of the devil.

I spot Junhoe walking towards our table. Missy and Miyoung are off getting us food because we haven’t eaten all day, so it’s just me manning the booth.

“Hey,” he says as he approaches, a tentative smile on his face, as if to say he comes in peace.

“Hey.”

“This looks great.” He looks at the stuff on the table, looking through what remains of what we’re selling.

“Thanks. Great website though. Congratulations.”

Junhoe avoids my eyes. “Thanks. It was really all Donghyuk and Chanwoo. They thought up the plan and set everything up.”

I nod, unsure of what to say next, praying he just goes away, because I just seem to never know how to carry a conversation around him. I mean I wouldn’t say I’m a super sociable person, but I’m not exactly an introvert either, and I --

“So are you gonna be at the café tomorrow night? My dog really enjoyed the dog treats we got her last time.”

My thoughts are interrupted by his question and his expectant look.

“Umm, yeah, I’ll be there. Same Saturday shift as always.”

Junhoe’s eyes crinkle into crescents. “Okay, great. Cool. I’ll drop by.” He does an uncharacteristically awkward wave and walks away.

I’m about to let out a sigh of relief when he suddenly turns around and walks up to me again.

“Hey, so umm, can I have your number? So I can text you beforehand, to check if the dog treats are available before I go. If that’s okay?”

The first word that comes to my mind is “yes”. This time around, I go with my gut and give him my number.  

One small step for Oli Park, one giant leap for shy, awkward girls around cute boys all around the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I mentioned in my note on the previous chapter, I will be posting a new chapter here every week, but if you'd like to read the whole thing NOW, you can download the e-book version FOR FREE by signing up to Fangirl Feels, my free newsletter!
> 
> Every month, I will send you 1-2 emails with updates on what I'm currently writing, and anything and everything related to my fangirling for iKON. Not only that, you'll also be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways and freebies from me!
> 
> Sign up for free, and get the e-book version of The I Hate Junhoe Club for free here:  
> https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tiv3p1inh3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading! :)


End file.
